


Love Is...

by wightfaerie



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-25
Updated: 2013-05-25
Packaged: 2017-12-12 23:24:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/817274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wightfaerie/pseuds/wightfaerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Valentine's Day story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Is...

  


The pictures are not an indication of a timeline for the story. They just fit and I like them! From episode 'Lady Blue'

 

Love Is...

Hutch hovered outside the flower shop. He had managed to give Starsky the slip by saying that he had to stop at Glow for Life for some healthy snacks. Starsky always claimed that place smelled horrible.

Now that Hutch was at the florist, he was procrastinating in his mission to buy Starsky roses for Valentine’s Day. The idea of buying flowers for a man seemed silly in the cold light of day, especially when the person buying them was another man.  A man who ranted on about the commercialism of holidays, especially when buying for a loved one. There was also the noticeable price increase for gifts on those special days.

He kicked his toe on the pavement and walked the few steps to the bakery next door. “Hi, Jenny,” he said to the plump blonde behind the counter. “I’ll take four of those chocolate heart shaped cookies.”

“Hey, Hutch, you and Starsky double dating tonight?” she asked with a wink. “One dollar, sixty.” She handed the bagged cookies to Hutch.

“Yeah, something like that.” Hutch took the paper bag and handed her two dollars. “And one for my favorite bakery girl.” He blew her a kiss as he walked out of the door.

A couple of seconds later, Hutch was back in front of the florist shop staring at the same vases of roses that he had been staring at for the past ten minutes. Buying the cookies had just been a whim, a distraction.

Swallowing, Hutch pushed open the door before he could change his mind. Why was he finding it so hard to buy flowers? It wasn’t as if he had never bought them for a lover before. But his lovers had previously been women, this time it was Starsky.

“Hi, Hutch, I haven’t seen you and your partner around here for a while,” said Betty, the aged owner of Betty’s Bouquets.

Damn, maybe he should have gone further afield for his token of love. “H-hi, Betty. No. We’ve been working on a case down at the docks.”

“So, what can I do for you today? Business or pleasure?”

“Uh, pleasure.” Hutch fingered the velvety red roses nearest to him. “I’ll take six red and one white.”

“Seven is an odd number.” Betty raised her eyebrows. “Six or twelve are the usual purchase for Valentine’s Day. Do you want the white one wrapped separately?”

God, she must think he was seeing two women, and being cheap buying one of them a single white rose. “No, all together, please. All for the same person.” He felt the need to explain more, why he wasn’t sure. “One rose for each week we have been together. As you say, six are traditional, so the seventh week is the white one.”

Betty laughed. “I’m just playing with you, honey. Pay no mind to me. How many roses you want to give that special lady in your life is your business.” She bunched up the roses and wrapped them in clear plastic decorated with red hearts. “Do you want to write the card, or will I?” she asked, holding up a small white card with a love heart on one side.

“I will.” Hutch took the card from her. “How much?”

“Five dollars.” Betty twisted a thin red satin ribbon around the bottom of the stems and handed them to Hutch.

He took them, handing over the money. “Thanks.”

Juggling the roses and the paper bag, Hutch sidestepped around a young woman pushing a buggy, turned left at the junction and walked the few feet to his car.

Hutch put the flowers and the bag of cookies on the back seat of his car. Looking at his watch, he figured he just had enough time to cook the Paul Muni Special. Starsky was meeting him at his apartment at seven, and the dish was Starsky’s favorite.

&&&

Hutch checked that everything was ready. The Muni Special was in the oven and the table set. The roses lay on the counter. He stroked the white rose, noticing for the first time the significance of the colors he had picked. It had nothing to do with tradition and needing a different color to make up the seventh week. It was that damned car. Every time he thought of Starsky, he thought of Starsky’s other love—the Torino. Hutch was jealous of a lump of metal. That white stripe was etched on his brain and he had subconsciously bought the colors that Starsky had chosen for his car. He grasped the stem of the white rose. He would use that one on the table.

The door crashed open. “You in, blondie?” Starsky asked in a loud voice. He inhaled deeply. “Smells good,” he said, slamming the door behind him.

Hutch quickly shoved the white rose back in the middle of the bunch. “You can see that I am.” Hutch walked across the room and pulled Starsky into a hug, kissing him hard.

“That’s a nice greeting, partner.” Starsky kissed Hutch back just as firmly.

“I missed you.” Hutch turned the two of them around so that he was facing the door. Guiding Starsky gently backwards, he pushed Starsky onto the couch, tumbling carefully on top of him.

“Missed you, too.” Starsky laughed. He wrapped his legs around Hutch, rubbing his groin against his.

Hutch matched Starsky’s grinding for a short while before prying himself out of Starsky’s grip. “Later,” he gasped. “Dinner will be ready soon.” He pushed to a stand and lit the candles on the table.

  
Walking into the kitchen, Hutch took the dish out of the oven and put it on the top of the stove. The roses suddenly looked out of place. Maybe he should have bought Starsky the usual tree or something else equally as safe.

“We eating any time soon?” Starsky snaked his arms around Hutch’s waist.

Hutch turned in the circle of Starsky’s arms. “Five minutes.” He reached sideways to pick up the roses. It was now or never. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” he said shyly, the words merging into one as he stuffed the flowers between them.

Starsky stared open-mouthed at the blooms. “Hutch,” he whispered.

“There are seven. One for each week we’ve been together. Six red for tradition, and the white one for the seventh week,” Hutch babbled, trying to cover his nervousness with words.

Did Starsky like the flowers or not? For once, Starsky seemed lost for words. Hutch tried to push Starsky away from him.

Starsky tightened his grip on Hutch, crushing the roses against their bodies. He looked up at Hutch through his ridiculously long lashes. Most women would kill for those lashes.

Hutch melted under Starsky’s gaze. He licked his lips. _Say something, Starsk.  Please._

“I thought you didn’t go in for euphoric sentimentalism.”

“I wanted to do something nice for you. Something special for our first Valentine’s day  together. As a couple,” Hutch clarified. “I cooked your favorite.” He nodded to the dish.

“Aww, Hutch.” Starsky backed up a couple of steps, holding onto the roses tightly. He buried his nose into the bunch, inhaling deeply. “Soapy, blintz. I didn’t get you nothing. You always…”

Hutch put his finger on Starsky’s lips. “I know what I always say. And I was wrong. For the first time ever, I wanted to buy my lover a gift to show him how much I love him, and not just because it is expected by society. You are all I need.” He pushed Starsky toward the table. “Sit and I’ll serve the food.”

Starsky grabbed a vase off the shelf and stuck the roses in some water. Placing the vase on the table, he sat down. While waiting for his food, he glanced back at the roses every few moments with a goofy grin.

Setting the Muni Special dish on the table and taking off the lid, Hutch followed Starsky’s gaze. “Is it too much?” he asked. Hutch was aware that he was not very adept when it came to giving gifts. He always seemed to get it wrong.

“No.” Starsky gave him a lopsided grin. “It’s perfect.” He raised the wine glass to his lips. “Happy Valentine’s Day. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Hutch said, sitting down. He would keep the cookies for dessert. Whenever that might be!

  
&&&  



End file.
